Phantasm
by BaddestWolf
Summary: Sequel to Caged. Gwaine struggles with Leon's death. Arthur and Merlin struggle with a new relationship dynamic. And an angry Morgause is waiting in the wings to get her revenge with a dangerous and heartbreaking plan. Merthur. Gwaine/Leon. Some whump. WIP.
1. Ashes

_**Ashes**_

* * *

Gwaine glanced up at the darkening sky, well aware that the last mourners had left more than an hour ago. His joints were stiff from the slight chill in the air and from standing still for so long. But he couldn't tear himself away. The fire had turned to bright red embers, and there was nothing left of Leon's body but ash.

In the few days since Leon had died, this was the first chance he'd had to stop and reflect. He wasn't locked in a dungeon or being tortured. He wasn't running with soldiers on his heels. He wasn't trying to save Arthur and Merlin's lives. And for the time being, he wasn't worried about what Uther thought of him. It was the silence and the stillness of it all that finally broke him. He fell to his knees and released the tears he'd been holding back.

"How…" He choked back a sob and dried his eyes with his wrists. "How could you do this to me?'

A sudden gust of wind caught him off guard and blew strands of his hair into his face. He didn't even try to move them, he let them stay wherever the tears left them plastered across his face. He had not cried like this in longer than he could remember, and now that he had started, he never wanted to stop.

When the sun finally sank behind the horizon, he pulled the edge of his cloak across his eyes and wiped them, knowing they were bright red. Shakily, he stood up and walked over to the pyre, placing a hand on the remnants of the wood. When he pulled away there was a light dusting of ash covering his fingers. He closed his eyes and grabbed the dented silver pendant around his neck. He opened them again and watched the dying embers for a moment before the whisper escaped his lips, "I love you."

_I love you._ He'd never said it before, at least not to Leon. There had been enough chances, but he'd always found an excuse. The words tasted bitter in his mouth and he tried not to remember each and every time Leon had said _I love you_.

Gwaine sighed as he walked up the stairs into the castle. There was a large part of him that wanted to go directly to the tavern and drown his sorrows, but he was still covered in cuts and bruises and sleep sounded a million times better than mead. He was trying so hard to get to his chambers quickly that he didn't even see Guinevere pop out of one of the closets in the hallway and he slammed straight into her. The stack of pillows she'd been carry went flying in every direction.

"Gwen!" He automatically reached down to start picking up the scattered pillows. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it, I should've been paying more attention to where I was going. Besides, everyone's on edge," She assured him with a soft smile. She was about to wave him off so he could get on his way, but then she saw his face.

"Oh, Gwaine," She said, kneeling next to him, and placing the pillows in a neat pile out of the way. "Are you going to be alright? I know how close you were to Leon."

_No, you really don't, _Gwaine thought, but he knew she was just trying to help. She'd known Leon since they were children. He had to remind himself that he didn't have a monopoly on grief. Other people felt it, too, and other people cared. "I'll be fine. I just need a day or two to adjust. I promise I'll be back to my normal, charming self in no time."

Gwaine stood up and nodded at her, "Again, sorry I ran into you."

"It's not a problem. Good night, Gwaine," She was as polite as usual, but she couldn't help narrowing her eyes suspiciously as he walked away. He'd been through a lot the past few days. So had Merlin and Arthur. He probably just needed some rest, and a few hours without any life-threatening crises.

When he finally reached his chamber, Gwaine let out the breath he'd been holding since he left Gwen. He pushed open the door and closed it behind him quickly. It took no time at all for him to strip off the majority of his clothes. Even less because he just left the pieces wherever they fell. He threw himself backwards onto the bed with his arms behind his head. He laid there staring at the ceiling for a while, but despite all the thinking he was trying to do, exhaustion won out and he fell asleep.

The sunlight glaring in through the open window across his bed woke him not long after dawn. He hadn't slept well, but it was still the best rest he'd had in more than a week. He sighed and sat up, rather frustrated at the sun's intrusion into his fitful sleep. "Oh, well. I suppose there's probably training to get to anyway."

He got up and shuffled across the floor, retrieving his outfit from the night before piece by piece. He took extra care putting on his chainmail, something Leon had done for him more than once. Crossing to the mirror, he straightened his mail and ran his fingers through his hair. It helped a bit, but he still looked ragged. There was a dark bruise on the side of his neck that was starting to turn sickly shades of yellow and green. He glanced down at the scabs on his knuckles, which were itchy now that they were beginning to heal.

He went to scratch at them with his other hand and noticed his fingertips were still a little dirty. Ash. Clenching his hands, he shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He caught his reflection as he moved in the mirror. Without thinking he slammed his fist straight into it, sending glass shards flying. He noted with surprising indifference that he had ripped his scabs open again. He took a moment to compose himself, then attached his sword belt around his waist and headed down to armory.


	2. Treason

_**Treason**_

* * *

Arthur rolled over and kicked the blankets off of his legs. He stretched his arms over his head and sat up quickly, a flood of memories from the night before rushing into his head. Then he noticed what it was that had woken him. Merlin was standing at the foot of his bed, breakfast tray in one hand, the corner of Arthur's blanket in the other.

"Rise and shine," Merlin announced as he waved the plate around. Arthur went to snatch a roll from the plate but Merlin pulled it back and placed it on the table. "Nope. Not until you get up. You've got training with the Knights."

Arthur grumbled at him, but he slid out of bed anyway. "Yes, Merlin. I'm aware." He crossed to the plate and shoved a piece of cheese into his mouth and glared at Merlin. "Aren't you supposed to be polishing things in the armory?"

Merlin shrugged. "I was getting to it, but if you'd rather me let you get dressed on your own…" He turned to walk away.

"Wait. Just….wait." Arthur said and rubbed his eyes. He sat down and took a bite of a roll. Merlin stood there, rather unsure of what he was supposed to do now. "Did you finally get some sleep?"

Merlin smiled a little at the question, "Some."

"And how's your wrist?"

The servant looked down at the ragged scab across his skin. "It's beginning to heal faster. Gaius put some foul smelling gunk on it last night that seemed to help."

"Good, good." Arthur sighed and bit into a grape before he stood up. "Suppose we should get a move on then."

"We?" Merlin asked with a laugh, "I'm already dressed and I've been awake for nearly two hours. _I'm_ not the problem."

Arthur glared and threw a roll at Merlin, trying not to grin when it bounced right off the middle of his forehead. Merlin just shook his head and walked over to the closet, throwing the doors open dramatically. He pulled a white shirt out and tossed it at the prince. "Put that on." Arthur looked flabbergasted but he wriggled into the shirt anyway.

Putting shirts on Arthur was part of his job, and normally it wasn't really an issue. But the sight of Arthur's bare skin had been bothering him since he'd come in the room, and Merlin didn't trust himself to touch it at the moment. He closed the closet doors and picked up Arthur's chainmail.

He set to work, pulling the chainmail over Arthur's head, buckling his sword belt, handing him his sword. For the second time in as many days, Arthur let him complete the task without comment. Arthur did his best to keep his eyes from Merlin during the whole process. He would never admit it out loud, but he had been wounded by Merlin's decision not to stay the night before. He understood it, and he couldn't blame him, but it hurt nonetheless. Merlin's hand brushed his as me moved to strap on a gauntlet.

"What is it, sire?" Merlin asked, relatively sure he knew the answer.

"Nothing, Merlin." Arthur replied, not coldly but with an obvious finality. "Thank you, I can do it from here. Those tournament swords aren't going to polish themselves."

"If only," Merlin muttered under his breath and he gave Arthur a silent nod as he slipped from the room.

Arthur readjusted his sword belt and slid his sword into its sheath. He grabbed one last piece of cheese from his plate and he nibbled on it absentmindedly as he made his way through the castle and down to the armory. A few of the swords were already missing. He took a quick glance around, noting Merlin hadn't arrived yet, then headed out to the training field.

He found Percival and Kay with their swords crossed, Kay shouting something about brute strength. Elyan was discussing something at the side of the field with a young knight named Peter. But what really caught Arthur's attention was Gwaine slashing repeatedly at one of the training dummies. Arthur went over and placed a hand on Gwaine's shoulder, and Gwaine turned, ready to cut him to ribbons.

Gwaine dropped his sword instantly. "Arthur," He looked over at Arthur and shrugged. "Sorry about. Just a bit of an early morning slice and dice."

Arthur wasn't going to push his point. "Slice away. It's not like we can start yet anyway. We're missing half the knights."

Gwaine nodded and turned back around, his hair flipping around his head. He retrieved his sword and continued beating the dummy, but with slightly more knightly tact this time. Arthur sighed and wandered to the edge of the field, into earshot of Elyan and Peter. Elyan swung his sword around his head in a fluid movement. Peter tried to mimic the motion, but it was a little shaky. That was when he saw her.

Morgana was in a dark green dress, her hair falling down around her. She was pacing along the balcony, one had resting on the stone railing. He was too far away to see her face clearly, but it was obvious she was watching his knights with interest. He could feel a flood of anger surge up, but he forced himself to stay calm. He couldn't go around accusing Morgana. Not yet. Not until he had proof.

He looked away for a few seconds to keep his anger in check. When he glanced back up to the balcony, she was gone. Gwaine was striding over to him, a worried expression on his face.

"What are we—" Gwaine stopped himself when he noticed Elyan and Peter watching them. He pulled Arthur farther away and lowered his voice. "What are we going to do about Morgana?"

"What _can_ we do?" Arthur shook his head. "My father is blind to all of her faults. He loves her as much as he loves me. We need proof, and we have nothing. _Nothing_."

"We have your word," Gwaine told him. He sheathed his sword, gazing around the field.

"And it will be my word against hers, Gwaine."

Gwaine raised a hand to the knights that were just arriving on the field. "These are your men, Arthur. Each and every one of them would die for you ten times over. Itw as you who proved to me that some nobles are worth fighting for. _I do not serve Uther_. I serve you, and my fellow Knights. And every day that Morgana is allowed to roam freely about Camelot because of Uther's love for her, you risk your own life and the lives of your men."

Arthur growled and knocked into Gwaine as he went to walk away, but he knew he was right. He stopped in his tracks and didn't turn back around to face Gwaine when he spoke. His voice was soft, almost scared. "That was treason, every word."

"Story of my life."

Arthur turned and met Gwaine's eyes. "Right. And what would you have me do?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But she's up to something. I can see it. She's not even trying to hide it. We're going to need Merlin."

Just then the last of the knights filed onto the field and Arthur drew his sword, shooting a frustrated glance at Gwaine. "Alright. Let's begin."


	3. Water

_**Water**_

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry this took literally forever. But I already have the next few chapters mostly written so I'll start posting at slightly more regular intervals :)

* * *

Morgana slid off her horse and ran a hand across its neck as she waited. Every so often there was a rustle of leaves in the distance, but the night was relatively calm. She sensed Morgause's approach long before she was in sight. She pushed back her hood and let it fall onto her shoulders as her sister stepped out of the darkness.

"Sister," Morgana smiled at her and gave her a quick hug.

"And how do things fare in Camelot?"

"Arthur and his servant keep eyes on me as often as they can, but they cannot be everywhere at all times, no matter how hard they try."

Morgause smirked and asked, "So preparations for the tournament are continuing as scheduled?"

"Of course. There's no way Uther would cancel his precious tournament."

"I should have known," Morgause said as she slipped a small vial out of her cloak and held it out to show Morgana. It fit easily in the palm of her hand and it was only half filled with a clear liquid.

Morgana reached out a hand to touch it, only for a second. "You found it?"

"It was not easy." Morgause laughed and slipped the vial back under the velvet folds of her cloak. "So rarely does one find water from the Cup of Life while the Cup remains lost. But I have tested it. The sorceress I took it from did not lie."

"It is settled then. The night before the tournament, I will bring you the body."

Morgause nodded and watched her sister for a moment in the moonlight and then sighed, "What is it, sister? Do you have doubts? Tell me you aren't beginning to sympathize with the king."

Morgana shook her head. "No, no, it's not that. Never that. I hate Uther now more than ever. I want to see him dead and doing it this way will shred Arthur's soul, which is just as well. But I am worried that my magic won't be strong enough to control him. Without you there…"

Morgause laid a hand on Morgana's arm as she trailed off. "You are ready. It is my magic that will be the binding force, leaving you free to be the controlling force. You can do that easily. So long as Merlin stays out of your way. Keep an eye on him, sister. If he figures out what you're doing, he just might wield enough magic to break the spell."

"He's a thorn in my side," Morgana announced, "But I will not let him outmaneuver me."

"I did not expect that you would." Smiling, Morgause leaned over to kiss her sister on the cheek. "Tomorrow night. Meet me here with the body."

"I know, I know. I'll be here. But it will not be easy to smuggle him out of Camelot on the night before a tournament."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Morgause assured her and the disappeared into the darkness.

A few sticks crackled here and there, but Morgana was unsure if it was the breeze or her sister's retreat that had caused the noise. She sighed and hoisted herself back onto her horse. She nudged him lightly with her toe and he began to trot in the direction of home. _Home_, she thought. _If only. _If Camelot had ever really felt like home, she wouldn't be where she was. And now there was no chance Camelot could ever be home. Not with her magic, and not with Arthur prancing around as if he already owned the place.

She let her thoughts wander once Camelot was in view, right across the hill. Killing Uther would solve one problem, but it would present another. Arthur knew about her now, and if he took the throne, she doubted he would let her keep her head. She'd nearly killed Merlin, and that was enough to make Arthur despise her, she was sure. As she approached the castle, she zeroed in on that thought. _Merlin is definitely going to be a problem._


	4. Servant

_**Servant**_

* * *

Merlin stomped up the stairs in Arthur's wake, attempting to catch pieces of armor that the prince was ripping off in frustration. He was about to say something to try and calm Arthur down when a gauntlet went whizzing by his head and clunked halfway down the staircase. He rolled his eyes and went running after it. When he finally caught back up, they were practically at Arthur's door, but the prince was still ranting as if Merlin had been listening the entire time.

"…because it doesn't make any sense. I know they're upset and that's fine, but I've never seen such a terrible training session in my life. Honestly I don't even think that…"

Tuning Arthur out again, Merlin positioned everything he was carrying between his chin and his left arm so he could step in front of Arthur and open the door, allowing him to continue his animated complaints unhindered.

Merlin dropped all of the armor on the table with a thud and turned to Arthur, who was staring at him like he wasn't sure why he was there.

"Sire, it's been a long day. And tomorrow's the last day of training before the tournament. Try not to dwell on how horrible it was, and just hope it's better tomorrow."

"If I could do that, Merlin, don't you think I would?"

Merlin considered a sarcastic retort, but decided against it. He crossed the room and placed a hand lightly on Arthur's back. He pulled the prince's shirt up over his head and then placed it on the table. "Get some sleep, Arthur."

Arthur gave him a half smile. "You're the servant. _I _tell _you_ what to do, remember?"

"How could I forget? It's always _wash this, Merlin _and _polish this, Merlin _or _catch this, Merlin _or _run up and down the stairs 18 times because I said so, Merlin_."

"It's sort of your job. You do know that, right?"

Merlin shook his head. "Yes, I know. Goodnight, sire."

Merlin was halfway out the door when Arthur called after him, "Why didn't you stay?" The question was out of his mouth before he'd really had time to consider it.

Sighing, Merlin shut the door but didn't turn around to face the prince. "Like you said," Merlin explained quietly, "I'm the servant."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, rather uncomfortable with the situation he'd put them both in with his inability to keep his mouth shut. "I'm sorry, Merlin," He started and sat down on the bed before he continued. "These past few days have been…I don't even have a word for it. Leon's dead. You're a sorcerer. Morgana's trying to kill my father. It's a lot to take in, you know. And what's worse is I don't have control over any of it. I never did, apparently."

Finally, Merlin turned around and leaned against the door. "It's not your fault. I should've told you sooner. About my magic. I shouldn't have kept it from you. But you have to believe I was doing it to protect you."

"And yourself."

"Yes, and myself." Merlin pushed off the wall and crossed the room to lean on one of the bedposts instead.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Did you finish polishing the swords?"

Merlin was confused by the abrupt subject change, but he nodded anyway.

"Good. Because there's one other thing I want you to do—"

"Oh, come on, Arthur, it's almost midnight. I'm exhausted. What could you possibly—"

Arthur stood up and clamped a hand firmly over Merlin's mouth. "Are you finished?" Merlin rolled his eyes but he stayed silent when Arthur pulled his hand away. "I want you to stay."

"I can't," Merlin mumbled, looking down at the floor.

"You can. I'm telling you that you can. What I want to know is why you won't."

Merlin looked up at him, searching for some way to explain how much he wanted to stay, but how many reasons he had to believe it was a terrible idea. He was thinking so hard, in fact, that he nearly missed Arthur sliding his hand around his waist and stepping closer. All of a sudden his heart was in his throat and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

He felt Arthur's breath against his ear, "You're the servant. I tell you what to do, remember? I'm telling you to _stay._"

That was the end of it. Merlin had lost all of his resolve. "Then I'll stay," he mumbled into Arthur's neck. Arthur shivered at the sensation and pulled away from Merlin, who was left standing in the middle of the room looking extremely awkward and entirely out of place.

Arthur sat back down on the edge of his bed, watching Merlin with a smirk. "I know I told you to stay, but I didn't mean stay _there._ You're allowed to move."

Merlin shrugged sheepishly and shuffled a few steps closer to the bed. In the terror of the dungeon and the grief of the funeral, this had seemed a lot easier. Now that everything was slowly returning to normal, this just seemed odd to him. When he spoke, it was barely even audible, "I thought you wouldn't want me anymore."

"What?"

Merlin sighed tried his best to explain, "Last night. I didn't stay because I figured you'd wake up in the morning and realize you didn't want me here. Or at least, not already dressed and serving you breakfast or something."

"Your breakfasts are never that great anyway."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Sort of."

"I'm baring my soul here, Arthur."

"Apparently."

"Clotpole."

Arthur glared at Merlin and reached out to grab his arm, dragging him over to the bed. "You can't talk to me like that."

"Dollop-head."

"You are _the worst_ servant ever."

"I really can't imagine why you keep me around since all of my skills are apparently sub-par and –"

The rest of Merlin's thought was lost in a possessive kiss. He'd sort of been expecting it at this point, but somehow he was still surprised. Arthur's hands slid across his back and under his shirt. Arthur yanked the shirt up over his head rather more roughly than was necessary and pushed Merlin over onto the bed.

Merlin, in an attempt to be helpful, reached up and started to untie the knot on his neckerchief. Arthur caught his hands and pinned them back, leaning over him with a grin. "That stays on." He kissed Merlin's neck right above the fabric and then worked his way down his chest. "But everything else can go."


End file.
